I was all set to post something about how annoying my day has been so far. Then I realized that it hasn't been so bad. It's just that when shit starts out not-great (no hot water in apt; had to shower at parents'), it seems that everything that follows after is verging on terrible.
Example: Tiberius (parents' cat) was at the vet last week for urination issues. He got the catheter, the prescription food, the meds, the obligatory "Well, there's this procedure we can do for him..." speech, and was shipped back home. It would seem that he's still having trouble with the peeing so my mom has to take him back to the vet. Not-great, right? But, not terrible either. Luckily my mom was able to rearrange her schedule enough to attend to the Emperor. It will suck if they have to chop the willy, but at least Ti will be healthy.
The other thing I was going to kvetch about was my workday. Boohoo, I have work to do. So sad that I'm not able to sit around playing spider solitaire and reading my book. I think the only valid complaint I have is that I am getting questions from my reps that I don't have clear answers for. They are asking me about things that the program leader should be telling them. It makes me sound like an idiot and I don't like that. Also, the reps aren't very good at framing their questions. I got into a snippy conversation with a rep a couple of weeks ago. When I finally got her to tell me what she meant, I had an answer, the right answer, all ready. Please drug reps, think about your question before you ask it.
As you can see, my day really hasn't been anything too awful bad. Annoying, yes, but not an epic fail. In my defense, it has been so long since I've had more than 15 minutes of work to do. I had forgotten what it feels like.
04 December 2008
02 December 2008
"The science was sound."
WARNING: Fringe Spoilers ahead.
Fringe is my newguilty pleasure. In case you don't know anything about the show, here's a quick sum-up. There is this thing called "The Pattern" which involves bizarre science, the Dept. of Homeland Security, the FBI, a corporation called Massive Dynamic, a bland Special Agent named Olivia Dunham, a ne'er do well genius and his lovably crazy scientist dad (Peter and Dr. Walter Bishop respectively). The show is nominally about "fringe" science: teleportation, reading dead people's brain waves, super-awful super weapons, etc. What it actually is nonsense - wonderful, crazy, not-science nonsense.
Tonight's episode revolved around a series of seemingly impossible bank robberies. We the viewers get to see the robbers in action. There's some black curtains, a bunch of laptops, and some gobbledygook about having a grid. What this all amounts to is that these robbers can walk through walls. Did I mention that they are all spiffed out in scuba gear? And have to haul themselves into the vault using a rope attached to a super magnet? And one of the robbers gets stuck in the wall?
It turns out that the criminals are stealing safety deposit boxes that were stocked with funky camera-looking things. It also turns out that our very own Dr. Walter had opened those boxes 20-odd years ago (the boxes are based on Fibonacci numbers - go math!) to hide away a device he had made in an insane attempt to cure his son, Peter, of some rare bird flu. Walter created this device in order to reach back to the 1930s and retrieve the only doctor who had ever successfully treated this rare bird flu. Luckily for this bird flu doc, Peter got better all by himself and Walter secreted away his temporal lasso.
Do you see now why I love this show? It's completely preposterous. Walter spent almost 20 years in a mental institution but somehow a good percentage of his research is being used for nefarious purposes, Olivia is sharing her dead boyfriend's memories, the lady who runs Massive Dynamic has an arm that any Terminator would envy and there is a cow in their basement lab on Harvard's campus. The science, my friends, is anything but sound.
Fringe is my new
Tonight's episode revolved around a series of seemingly impossible bank robberies. We the viewers get to see the robbers in action. There's some black curtains, a bunch of laptops, and some gobbledygook about having a grid. What this all amounts to is that these robbers can walk through walls. Did I mention that they are all spiffed out in scuba gear? And have to haul themselves into the vault using a rope attached to a super magnet? And one of the robbers gets stuck in the wall?
It turns out that the criminals are stealing safety deposit boxes that were stocked with funky camera-looking things. It also turns out that our very own Dr. Walter had opened those boxes 20-odd years ago (the boxes are based on Fibonacci numbers - go math!) to hide away a device he had made in an insane attempt to cure his son, Peter, of some rare bird flu. Walter created this device in order to reach back to the 1930s and retrieve the only doctor who had ever successfully treated this rare bird flu. Luckily for this bird flu doc, Peter got better all by himself and Walter secreted away his temporal lasso.
Do you see now why I love this show? It's completely preposterous. Walter spent almost 20 years in a mental institution but somehow a good percentage of his research is being used for nefarious purposes, Olivia is sharing her dead boyfriend's memories, the lady who runs Massive Dynamic has an arm that any Terminator would envy and there is a cow in their basement lab on Harvard's campus. The science, my friends, is anything but sound.
24 November 2008
Do the Crime...
I am fucked.
Ten days ago, I got pulled over for first running a red light and then, in a move obviously designed to deliberately piss off the cop, I flicked my cigarette butt out the window. I know, I know. Littering is bad. Running red lights; also bad. I'm not here to bemoan the fact that I got caught doing two illegal things. I am here to say, that for the 1st time since I turned 18, I may be in a serious spot of doodoo.
I was all set to make a payment plan with the township to pay off the fines. $400+ is not an amount of money I generally have lying around. I should have been a good doobie and taken care of it the same day I got pulled over. However, I am a procrastinator and apparently even the threat of warrants being issued can't get me offa my lazy ass.
Since I had no intention of telling my parents that I got pulled over, I thought that I oh-so-carefully tucked those stupid pieces of yellow paper into my wallet. Easy to remember where I put them but hidden away from inquisitive eyeballs. Not that my parents are super-nosy or anything. I was just being cautious. Evidently I was cautious to the point of being magic because those fucking things have disappeared.
They are not in my wallet. They are not in my purse. They are not in the bag I take to work. They aren't under the front passenger seat of my car. They aren't in the trash bag in my car. They aren't in the random pile of shit on my table in the apartment. I do not have them, Sam I am.
Still, I wasn't at the despairing point. I figured I could call the township, get directed to the department I needed, have them find me in the system using my last name or license number, and proceed with the payment plan option. I found the number for the muni building, called during my break and was transferred by a nice lady to the department I needed. There was no answer. I tried calling the police department later that day and the friendly man who answered the phone said that I needed to speak to the court. He very helpfully said, "There's a number in the corner of your ticket-". In my head: FUCK. Out loud: "Oh damn, I don't have the ticket right in front of me. I'll call back later." The friendly man said okie-dokie.
I'm starting to panic a bit at this point. I hop on Google and try to find a breakdown of the courts in the township (oh hell, it was Bensalem) to see if I could figure out which court would be handling my situation. Google wasn't especially helpful. I went to the Bucks County site, back to the Bensalem twp and Bensalem PD sites, and some random site that wasn't helpful. Goddamn internets!
Don't think that I'm blaming Google for my troubles. I know I should have taken care of all this at the earliest opportunity, but I still have no idea how my tickets got so thoroughly lost. Even if they had fallen out of my purse at my parents' house, Mom and Dad would have left them in the usual spot. I may have gotten a lecture from Dad about littering, but lectures I can handle. Jail, however, is something else entirely.
Ten days ago, I got pulled over for first running a red light and then, in a move obviously designed to deliberately piss off the cop, I flicked my cigarette butt out the window. I know, I know. Littering is bad. Running red lights; also bad. I'm not here to bemoan the fact that I got caught doing two illegal things. I am here to say, that for the 1st time since I turned 18, I may be in a serious spot of doodoo.
I was all set to make a payment plan with the township to pay off the fines. $400+ is not an amount of money I generally have lying around. I should have been a good doobie and taken care of it the same day I got pulled over. However, I am a procrastinator and apparently even the threat of warrants being issued can't get me offa my lazy ass.
Since I had no intention of telling my parents that I got pulled over, I thought that I oh-so-carefully tucked those stupid pieces of yellow paper into my wallet. Easy to remember where I put them but hidden away from inquisitive eyeballs. Not that my parents are super-nosy or anything. I was just being cautious. Evidently I was cautious to the point of being magic because those fucking things have disappeared.
They are not in my wallet. They are not in my purse. They are not in the bag I take to work. They aren't under the front passenger seat of my car. They aren't in the trash bag in my car. They aren't in the random pile of shit on my table in the apartment. I do not have them, Sam I am.
Still, I wasn't at the despairing point. I figured I could call the township, get directed to the department I needed, have them find me in the system using my last name or license number, and proceed with the payment plan option. I found the number for the muni building, called during my break and was transferred by a nice lady to the department I needed. There was no answer. I tried calling the police department later that day and the friendly man who answered the phone said that I needed to speak to the court. He very helpfully said, "There's a number in the corner of your ticket-". In my head: FUCK. Out loud: "Oh damn, I don't have the ticket right in front of me. I'll call back later." The friendly man said okie-dokie.
I'm starting to panic a bit at this point. I hop on Google and try to find a breakdown of the courts in the township (oh hell, it was Bensalem) to see if I could figure out which court would be handling my situation. Google wasn't especially helpful. I went to the Bucks County site, back to the Bensalem twp and Bensalem PD sites, and some random site that wasn't helpful. Goddamn internets!
Don't think that I'm blaming Google for my troubles. I know I should have taken care of all this at the earliest opportunity, but I still have no idea how my tickets got so thoroughly lost. Even if they had fallen out of my purse at my parents' house, Mom and Dad would have left them in the usual spot. I may have gotten a lecture from Dad about littering, but lectures I can handle. Jail, however, is something else entirely.
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